Bridges are begun, and their not yet united piers desolately look at one another over roads and streams like brick and mortar couples with an obstacle to their union; fragments of embankments are thrown up and left as precipices with torrents of rusty carts and barrows tumbling over them; tripods of tall poles appear on hilltops, where there are rumours of tunnels; everything looks chaotic and abandoned in full hopelessness.
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Don’t let the torrent of melancholy and drear philosophy drown our world.
Ray Bradbury -- Fahrenheit 451
Her words come out in a torrent, as if she’s been hoarding them all for this moment.